Han van Meegeren (1889-1947), Christ [or Supper] at Emmaus, Canvas, 118 x 130,5 cm, Collection Museum Boijmans Van Beuningen. |
I think we're all agreed: not even close! Then how did this ludicrous forgery by disgruntled Dutch artist Han van Meegeren fool almost everyone, including leading art experts of his day, and sell for the equivalent of $40 million in today’s terms? How did a similar, even cruder van Meegeren “Vermeer” wind up in the grubby hands of Nazi Reich Marshal Hermann Goering as the crown jewel of his looted art collection? The answer to this and much more can be found in the stranger-than-fiction tale told by author Edward Dolnick in his 2008 best-seller The Forger’s Spell.
The story opens at the end of World War II in Nazi-occupied
Holland, where a wealthy van Meegeren has been living in luxury at a time when
many of his countrymen were starving and/or freezing to death. How was this
possible?
After critics destroyed what had been at the start a
promising art career, Van Meegeren wanted revenge. He set out to learn the
forger’s art and create fakes that would destroy his critics’ reputations. The
main problem he faced was how to create “oil” paint that would harden quickly
and fool the experts.
By 1932 he had begun to experiment with Bakelite, one of the
earliest plastics. After months of failed experiments, he finally came up with
a mixture, that once painted on canvas and baked in an oven, looked authentic
and passed the alcohol swab test for hardness--a tale-tell characteristic of
old oil paint. He was on his way.
In a devilishly clever move, Van Meegeren decided not to
copy any of the existing Vermeers that could be easily detected as frauds, but
to create a whole new body of work in a different style. Loosely copying an
existing Carravagio (Supper at Emmaus), whose work had influenced Vermeer, Van
Meegeren painted Christ at Emmaus and put in motion a plan that would
eventually fool the leading Dutch art authority of his day, Abraham Breius. But first, fictitious provenances had to be
established, unscrupulous dealers found and above all, fragile egos manipulated.
By Caravaggio Supper at Emmaus (Milan), 1606. Brera Fine Arts Academy, Milan.The Yorck Project: 10.000 Meisterwerke der Malerei. DVD-ROM, 2002. ISBN 3936122202. Distributed by DIRECTMEDIA Publishing GmbH., Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=148778
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A few weeks after first seeing Christ at Emmaus, Breius
officially proclaimed:
“This gorgeous work by Vermeer, the great Vermeer from
Delft, has emerged from the dark—thank God!—where it had been hidden for years
. . . When I was shown this masterpiece I had difficulty controlling my
emotions . . . It radiates with a depth of feeling not found in any of his
other works.”
Really?
Meanwhile Hitler and Goering were helping themselves and
stockpiling as many of Europe’s treasures as they could. Desperate to keep the
newly discovered “Vermeer” from getting in the hands of the Nazis, a group of
wealthy Dutchmen bought Christ at Emmaus for the equivalent of $2.6 million or
approximately $40 million in today’s terms.
Unlike Hitler, Goering had not been able to obtain a Vermeer
for his collection, so he was ripe for the picking when Van Meegeren’s Christ
with Woman Taken in Adultery showed up. Goering traded a cache of looted art
work for the painting that became his most prized possession (and he had
accumulated a LOT of stuff).
It was just after the war that van Meegeren was finally
exposed. Far from being reviled for his crimes, van Meegeren became a sort of
folk hero for having swindled Nazi fat-cat Goering. In a turn of the darkest poetic
justice, Goering learned the truth about his precious Vermeer just as he was about
to be hanged for war crimes.
Amazing story when I read it a few years back... and still holds true...recommend this book highly.
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